"There you go, ma'am," the man in blue and white said as he casually sailed into Mike's Sunoco, a green Chevy van lifted over his head.

"Th-thank you, Captain," said the driver. "Sorry for the trouble..."

"No trouble at all," grinned the hero, placing the van in front of the service bay door. "That highway is no place for a breakdown."

He nodded toward the station. "Your alternator just went. Have 'em put in a new one and you'll be on your way."

The woman blinked. "Wow - did you.... see that with your X-ray vision?"

"No ma'am - he's just good with cars."

"Hey, Mike."

"Cap. Good to see you again." A young, wiry man with a pronounced jaw sauntered up to the van. "Afternoon, ma'am."

The Captain clapped Mike on the shoulder, and turned to the van's driver. "Mike'll take good care of you.

"Be seeing you."

The young man nodded as Captain Thunder rose into the skies.

"You... know each other?" he heard the woman ask.

"Oh, sorta."

Captain Thunder smiled.

He had spent some long afternoons out in the Pennsylvania woods, whiling away the day and trading stories with Mike, waiting for fish to bite. He didn't have as many days as he would have liked, being married and all, but Megan did allow him a few days a year, as he allowed her a few.

Maybe they'd go together this summer, take the kids. Every kid should be exposed, at least, to the pleasures of fishing.

Still. As much as he loved his wife and children, he loved the peace and quiet of a day by himself.

He hadn't inherited his father's "X-ray" vision - that was purely a function of his dad's alien eyeballs. What he had inherited were incredibly sensitive ears.

With a lot of at-first-difficult concentration, he had learned to filter out all the extraneous noise that he found himself subjected to. It still wasn't particularly easy, not when he could hear a baby crying in Delaware at the same time he could hear a truck braking in Toledo - and literally everything in between.

Sometimes it was good to just get away from the noise for awhile. He understood the whole Arctic Fortress of Solitude thing, perfectly.

Now, as he drifted over the Ohio border, he heard the roar of trucks and the steady chugging of trains. There was a little girl crying over her popped balloon and a small boy sharing a laugh with his mother. There were three hundred twelve microwave ovens all beeping at once. There was an explosion outside of Pittsburgh...

Without so much as a conscious thought Captain Thunder accelerated back into Pennsylvania.

Force beams riccocheted off his chest and off into space.

Still, Captain Thunder thought, it was getting annoying.

The ship was like none he had seen before. The shape - it was like someone had stepped gently on several layer cakes and tossed them together.

The guns were few enough and far enough apart that he felt safe in assuming this wasn't a military vessel. He calculated the arcs of fire of the guns, and simply swooped inside that arc.

And waited.

He smiled, noting that the guns stopped firing; they couldn't hit him at such close range.

Now came the hard part - entering the ship. He had no intention of just busting through the walls; that would certainly endanger the crew. But the airlocks were all about four feet high, which meant he could only enter by flying lengthwise.

Which he couldn't do because his body was over six feet long, and the airlocks were only about half that length, he sighed.

At last he found what he presumed to be a landing bay. He quickly tore an entrance in the door, then resealed it once he was on the other side.

Heh. Faster than a speeding bullet, he grinned.

Now it was just a matter of activating the airlock's inner door, and there were really only so many ways for these things to work.

The huge armored door slid up to reveal a small crowd of beings that looked to Captain Thunder rather like frogs someone had stepped on than thought better of it.

::It is here!::

Hmm - sounds like a Karnellan dialect. Should be simple enough to -

::Activate the self-destruct sequence!::

::On my mark! Three... two...::

::One!:: the Captain said as he suddenly stood in between a creature and its console.

The froglike beings halted. This was good.

The frog creatures looked at him with unblinking eyes - or at least, very slow-blinking eyes.

::We are defeated.:: a creature wearing a simple crown said. ::It is written that we die in atonement.::

Captain Thunder started.

::No. No one's dying. I'm the, uh, victor - and I command you not to kill yourselves.::

The creatures looked at him, then at one another.

They turned as one with resignation. At least, Captain Thunder thought it was resignation. They really didn't change expressions much.

::Lay down your weapons.:: the crowned creature said. ::This one would have us as slaves.::

::What? No, no!":: Captain Thunder held out his hands, palms up. ::Sheesh! No, I don't want you for slaves. You strike me as intelligent creatures. Why did you attack me?::

Again, the crew turned to the one wearing the crown.

::Fear, mostly. You are most unlike us.::

Captain Thunder thought for a moment. It wasn't the first time he'd been mistaken for a monster of sorts. After all, the was nearly twice as tall as these creatures, and who knew what he looked like through their eyes.

::Yes, that is true, I suppose. But you people have nothing to fear from me. I do not wish to harm you or enslave you.::

::But - but we fought! We fought bravely!::

::Or do anything else to you!:: Captain Thunder said, exasperated. ::Captain, can't you tell - ?"

::I am Vizier.:: the crowned one said, nodding to his right. ::It is the Commander of the vessel.::

::Oh. My apologies.:: Captain Thunder turned toward the Commander.

::I speak for the Commander and the crew.:: said the Vizier.

Captain Thunder sighed and turned back toward the crowned creature. Politics.

::May I ask, then, Vizier, what brings you to the Earth sector, Sol III, Rigus-541?:: he asked politely. ::Are you explorers?::

::We are lost.:: the crowned creature said. ::Our instruments were destroyed in a powerful magnetic storm. We have been wandering these past ten mean solar days."

The Captain paused.

::Ah. Your kind is unfamiliar to me also. Where are you from?::

::We are Abjohra, from constant SN1401K7.::

Ah. Standard Karnellan scientific notation.

"No problem - I can get you headed back in the right direction."

"...you can?"

"Sure!"

##How do we know we can trust it, sire?## a frog-thing in a sparkly sash said in Frrg.

Frrg. Heh. He had known that language since high school.

##Because I haven't broke apart the ship, or let you kill yourselves, or anything,## he smiled. ##Which you have to admit, would be much simpler, if I were so inclined.##

The creature looked stunned - at least, Captain Thunder imagined he looked stunned. It was so damned hard to tell.

::Look,:: Thunder said, crouching down so he was of equal height with the Abjohra. ::I won't lie to you and say that Earthers always get along with each other, but generally we're a pretty friendly bunch. If I can help you get home I'll gladly do so.::

The Vizier regarded him with an unblinking eye.

::You wish to aid us.::

The Captain took it as a good sign that he had said it as a statement, rather than a question.

::We accept. We only require of you but one thing.::

That... took some doing.

I can't believe I ate that... stuff, Captain Thunder thought. Though he never wanted to even think about how it tasted, ever again, he did have to admit that at least he was rather pleasantly full.

He shook his head and exhaled forcefully.

But if eating their... delicacy, was the price he had to pay for his "victory" over the Abjohra - just so he could then show them the way home, well... there were worse things.

And one of them was just hitting a cash register in Skaneatles.

"Come on, hurry up!"

A black-clad man gestured impatiently to a sack he held.

Although the costume looked as it were a size or two too large - except around the gut - there was no mistaking that the man in question was the fierce Blackstone, Master of Dark Magic, Lord of the Ebonstone.

So what, the counter girl thought as she fumbled with the money, was he doing all the way out here in tiny Skaneatles?

She dropped some of the money and froze. Slowly she looked up at Blackstone, She looked as if she were going to cry.

"Look," he said with a sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you. Okay? Just... put the money in the sack."

"Hey, Blackstone," Captain Thunder appeared, cape flapping, leaning casually against the wall. "Haven't seen you in the City for a few years. You on vacation?"

"Captain Thunder!?" Blackstone screeched, whipping out an ebony gun with a glowing black stone embedded in the barrel. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

The man in deep blue gestured over his shoulder. "I like the fish fry at Dave's. You?"

Blackstone half-heartedly raised his weapon and pointed it in the hero's general direction; his arm shook a little.

"I... I... "

"Come on," Captain Thunder said gently. "You can hurt me with that thing, I'll give you that, but you really can't win."

"I need the money."

"Sure you - "

"I need the money," Blackstone's voice grew stronger.

"Hmm. I know how that goes."

The dark-garbed man's eyes widened in surprise.

"What?" he said quietly. "B-but you're... a big time superhero. One of the biggest!"

"Doesn't exactly pay the bills, you know?"

Blackstone slowly let his gun hand drop.

"I... never wanted to... "

Captain Thunder strode over to the bar and leaned on it, casually.

"Root beer, please."

The clerk, who hadn't moved since she opened the cash drawer, looked at him, then at Blackstone.

Cap looked at Blackstone, too.

"You want something?"

"... Diet Coke."

"Root beer and a Diet Coke, please," he smiled at the cashier.

Blackstone stuck his gun back in his belt and took a few steps to the bar.

"I... jeez, I tried so hard to... stay out of costume, to get a job... "

He buried his head in hands. "No one will hire an ex-con. and... and Charlie needs an operation..."

The clerk brought their drinks and carefully placed them on the bar. Cap slid a five dollar bill across to her and waved off any change.

He smiled at her and took a swig.

For a moment, neither said anything.

"Root beer," Cap said, taking another swig. "Inherited that from my dad."

"You can't 'inherit' root beer."

Captain Thunder sighed. "Fine. I grew up in a home with root beer and no other sodas, and grew to like root beer, just like my father likes root beer. Technically, I guess you're right - I didn't inherit it."

"Sorry," a wan smile crept over Blackstone's face. "Sounds like you did inherit it."

He took a long sip of his Diet Coke.

"Well," he sighed. "Let's go. I'm ready."

"Just one thing," Cap said, turning to the clerk - who hadn't left her station.

"Miss? He didn't hurt you any, did he?"

"Wha - n-no, no he didn't."

"Now, I'm gonna ask you a big favor. Don't press charges."

"What?" said the clerk.

"What?" said Blackstone.

"Look, I'll do you a favor - I don't know, come up and sign autographs or something. Make an appearance, draw you some business..."

"Wh-what are you doing?" a flabbergasted Blackstone said.

"I hate to see a good man get returned to jail," Captain Thunder smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on. I know some people who can give your son that operation, or at least point us in the right direction. Then we'll talk about getting you a job."

They began walking toward the door.

"But... but... they won't hire an ex-con."

"They will with a recommendation from me."

Blackstone stopped and turned to Captain Thunder.

"L-look, not to appear ungrateful or anything, but... why? Why help me?"

Thunder looked at him.

"Because I can.

"You're no killer, Frank. You could have opened up on the girl or me but you didn't. That's worth some points.

"You've kept clean - well, mostly - since you got out, and... "

He paused for a moment. "You like to fish?"

"Uh... yeah. Some. Haven't really done it for awhile... "

"Well, come on then. I know a spot where the trout are running wild."

"Hi, honey!"

Christopher Kent planted a kiss on his wife. "How were the kids today?"

"Fine," Megan said, turning back to the pork chops atop the stove. "Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minures. How was your day?"

Chris grinned. He hadn't had to throw a punch all day. And he had maybe found a fishing buddy to boot.

"Absolutely, great!"